Page 45 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

We head into the back, and then he leads me through another door into a wide, warehouse-style space, where Hannah is holding court.

She’s wearing a purple sweaterdress that brings out her red hair and green eyes.

She looks almost unreal—too bright, too pretty, too good for me, to be certain.

She’s standing with Spreadsheet, the man formerly known as Eugene Peebles, next to a bunch of kegs.

His mustache is history, his hair has been restyled, and he’s wearing a button-up shirt, a pair of jeans, and loafers.

Fuck, she dressed him up to look like me.

A laugh bubbles up inside me just as Hannah catches sight of me.

She grins, then announces to the people gathered around her, including Liam, who gives me a weighing look: “We’re gonna have a banger of a holiday party this year, friends.

Eugene here is going as Santa Claus.” She ignores the surprised look he gives her.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to miss that. ”

They start talking amongst themselves, and Hannah gives Eugene a little push, as if he’s a baby duckling she’s casting into the pond. My smile grows larger as she makes her way to me.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, sounding surprised but not upset, thank God.

“I had to see you, and Dottie offered to stay with Ollie for a little while.” I hand her the cookie I brought her. “She made some love cookies.”

She gives me a searching look as she accepts the cookie. I half expect she’s going to lob a barb at me, but instead she asks, “Does this have weed in it?”

I laugh. “I hope not. Ollie ate five.” I glance at Eugene, who’s talking animatedly to someone, hopefully not about spreadsheets or self-discipline. “You chose a weirdly hot look for him,” I say, quoting what she said about my button-downs earlier.

“I was inspired,” she says with a smile, tucking the napkin-wrapped cookie into her purse. “But, really, what are you doing here?”

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

She searches out Liam—who’s been watching me like a hawk since I walked in and would definitely make a hat out of my face if I screw up—then nods to him and takes my hand. The gesture is so natural, it fills my chest with hope.

She leads me into a small, cramped storeroom, then shuts the door. There’s a bunch of kegs stacked up behind us, another row of them on the floor in front of us, and the walls are covered in floor-to-ceiling racks crammed with cardboard boxes of alcohol and barroom supplies.

“Well?” she asks, turning toward me. “You’re being very mysterious.”

“I wanted to thank you in person,” I say. “I gave Ollie a drums lesson today. It felt…” I’m surprised by the welling of heat behind my eyes. “It was awesome. And if you’re okay with it, I’d love it if you could bring him to The Missing Beat tomorrow.”

She gives me one of her gorgeous whole-face smiles. “I’m so happy I’m not even going to say I told you so.”

“You can if you want,” I say. “You were right. You did tell me so.”

“I did, I really did,” she says, practically bouncing in her excitement. Her excitement for us. For what this might mean for my relationship with Ollie.

I hesitate, afraid to say this next part but needing to.

I take a deep breath. “Before I met you, I was afraid of being a dad. I figured the best thing I could do for Ollie was find someone else to raise him. Someone who knew what they were doing. Maybe that sounds ridiculous because I spend my afternoons working with other people’s kids, but it’s different.

They’re older, and they’re there to learn music, not life lessons.

So the first thing I did when he got here was try to look for someone else to spend time with him.

But I’m done doing that. I want to be his father, Hannah.

I’m not going to hire another nanny. I want to do this.

I’m going to bring him to the Beat with me every afternoon, and Dottie helped me realize that I can just get sitters for when I have shows. ”

“This is the nicest way I’ve ever been fired,” she says with a laugh, her eyes shiny with tears. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me close, burrowing her face into my neck. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I’m not firing you,” I say, holding her close, savoring the scent of her, the feeling of her in my arms. I sent her away the other night like an idiot, but I never want to do that again.

I want to hang onto her for as long as she’ll let me.

Until my fingers break. “You can keep the job for as long as you want. It’ll help in the beginning to have you with him at The Missing Beat.

But you need something else, too, Hannah.

Something bigger. You’re good at working with people, at bringing them together.

” I pause before admitting, “And I want you to be with us because we’re yours, not because it’s a job.

You’re the person I’d choose to be with, out of everyone in the world, and I want you to choose me back. I want to prove I’m worthy of it.”

She pulls back to look at me, and I’m gutted by the tear sliding down her cheek.

I don’t need her to tell me she’s not the crying type.

She probably sees tears as weakness. I always did, growing up.

Whenever we would cry, Our mother would hand us over to Nanny Grace for “acting out,” and Nanny Grace would rap our knuckles.

I trace the tear with my finger. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I think they’re happy tears,” she says, laughing softly. “I honestly don’t have enough experience with tears to be sure.”

I lean in and kiss her softly, reverently.

“You’re really blowing my mind right now, Travis,” she says. “But you’ve been a bit hot and cold. I don’t know what to make of it. I thought you didn’t want to be with me until I stopped working for you.”

“Maritime law is different,” I say, wanting a smile from her.

“Okay, Ships Junior. Enlighten me.”

“When you’re on a ship, you don’t know how much of a future you have ahead of you. Pirates might attack, or everyone might get scurvy. So it’s all about living in the moment. You’ve made me value that. I was hoping we could try living in the moment together. ”

“I’d like that,” she says, then lifts onto her toes and kisses me. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then will you sit down on that keg, so I can get down on my knees and worship you?”

She smiles up at me, and I kiss her slowly, wanting to savor it. To prove to myself that she’s going to be mine. When we finally part for a second, panting, she says, “I’ve had fantasies about this room too.”

“You’ve had fantasies about my music room?”

“Oh, yes, Mister Sir ,” she says, her expression full of mischief. “You wouldn’t believe it. My mind is an unclean place. It’s even worse than my apartment.”

“Good. We’re going to make all of your fantasies come true.” Grinning, I urge her back on to the keg, and she sits down on it, spreading her legs for me. My cock is instantly hard, but it doesn’t get to play a role in what’s happening tonight.

I step between her legs and very slowly, very deliberately get down on my knees before her.

Then I push up the skirt of that pretty purple dress and pull her panties down with my teeth—and she throws her head back with delighted laughter.

The panties snag on her shoes, and I pry them off.

They fall to the floor, but I pick them up, and after making sure she’s watching me, I tuck them into my pocket.

“I’ll be taking these,” I say.

“Will you mount them on the wall like a trophy?”

“Ollie would ask too many questions. I’ll have to hide them in my drawer like a pervert.”

She starts laughing again, but her laughter hitches as I spread her legs wider, pulling her toward me, and start kissing my way to her center. Her skin is soft and warm beneath my mouth, and I can feel her whole body arcing toward me, wanting my touch. My kiss.

I want her taste .

So I hook her legs over my shoulders and go right for what I want, burying my face in her as she grips my hair. I suck and lick, losing myself in her soft moans, in the slight pain of her fist clenching in my hair, in the way her body responds to my tongue and the graze of my teeth.

Her hand tightens in my hair, and I can feel her trembling now, her release close.

My body begs me to stand up and thrust into her now, when she’s nearly there, so she can come all around my dick instead of against my mouth.

But that’s not what tonight’s about. Tonight, I’m showing her that I want her pleasure even more than my own.

I want her to know how highly I really do think of her.

“I’m coming,” she says finally, and I suck harder, move my tongue faster, wanting to give her the best orgasm she’s ever had. Wanting each orgasm I give her to be better than the last.

I feel her tense around me, and I keep worshipping her with my mouth until she tugs me up to her.

“You’re very good at that,” she says. “Even better than in my imagination.”

I smile at her. “Good.”

I pause, weighing what I’m going to say next. “I need to go home soon, but I was wondering if you could show me around. I’ve been here a bunch of times, but never with you. Not since we’ve gotten to know each other.”

“You really want a tour of a brewery you’ve been too dozens of times?”

“Yes. I want it with you.”

Maybe it’ll kill the mood, since she obviously hasn’t moved on from this place, but I get the sense that it hasn’t totally moved on from her either.

“We’re going to do that,” she says, her eyes shining. “I’m glad you want to. But first you’re going to fuck me on this keg.”

“Hannah.” My voice is ragged with my need to do just that. My cock aches. “I didn’t bring a condom. I wanted to…this was about showing you how much you matter to me.”

“If you really want to show me, you’ll fuck me. Besides, you don’t need one. I’m on the pill, and obviously I got tested after the Jonah fiasco.”

A fresh longing to kill Jonah rolls through me, but I grit my teeth and focus on what she’s trying to tell me. “You don’t want me to use a condom?”

“I want to show you around Big Catch while your cum is dripping down my leg. How does that sound?”

I get my pants shoved down so quickly it probably breaks some kind of speed record.

She opens her legs wider, inviting me in. Without hesitation, I line myself up and thrust into her hard, the feeling so overwhelming I nearly come on the spot. Especially when she wraps her legs around me and bites the lobe of my ear.

“Don’t go easy on me, Travis,” she whispers. “I want it all.”

I thrust in harder the next time, gripping her thighs on either side of me so I can get deeper, and she throws her head back, her curly hair streaming behind her, making a deep moan of pleasure that has me pushing in even harder, deeper.

The need I feel for her stuns me with its intensity. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Never felt like this with anyone.

I burrow my head into her dress, seeking out her nipple, and she tugs the material down for me as I thrust in again, my hands flexing on her thighs.

Then she digs her fingernails into my back, the slight pain driving me wild as I push in faster, quicker, knocking against the keg so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell down and caused a chain reaction of all of them falling down.

Even if it did, I still wouldn’t stop fucking her.

I don’t know if I could. But then she clenches down on me, a guttural groan escaping her lips.

“Yes, yes,” I say, my voice raspy and uneven. “Come for me, Hannah.” Even as I say it, I feel my own orgasm rolling out, taking hold of me. I give myself over to it, losing myself entirely to the wave of pleasure.

Once it recedes, I pull her even harder against me, collecting all of her in my arms, needing every part of myself touching every part of her, and kiss her neck and lips before finally pulling back.

She beams up at me, her dress in complete disarray. “Do I look like I just got fucked in the storeroom?”

“Yes,” I say, grinning back at her. “Do I look like I just fucked you?”

“Absolutely.”

I pause, wanting to ask but not wanting her to react poorly. “I need to see it. I need to see my cum dripping down your leg. I know you’re going to clean up, but first I want to see it.”

“Look at you being a secret pervert,” she teases, getting to her feet.

“A pervert for you, definitely,” I say as she spreads her legs and leans back, letting me see the cum trickling down the top of her thigh. The breath whooshes right out of me.

“Let’s stop at the bathroom and then go on that tour,” she says.

I nod in agreement, still incapable of speech. I help her straighten her dress, and only once she’s fully covered again do I regain the ability to speak. “But why don’t we make a point of avoiding your brother.”